


A Day in the Desert

by a_nonny_moose



Series: My AU [35]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: When Mark kicks the Egos out for the day, they have to find something to do. Something that won't get them all killed. Wilford has the perfect idea.





	A Day in the Desert

“Okay.” Dr. Iplier took a breath. “Let’s go then, I guess.” He, the Host, Bim, Warfstache (jumping with glee), and the disgruntled-looking Googles began to climb the hill in front of them. At the top, a derelict house.  
The work week had been long and difficult– the Googles’ latest computer upgrade project had literally gone up in flames, much to the displeasure of the rest of the office, and Wilford, characteristically, had exacerbated the situation by offering to help shoot the rest of the computers. Mark had ordered them out, demanding that they ‘find something to do’ outside, before locking the door.  
Dark, dangerously close to breaking, disappeared almost immediately after Wilford announced his intention to explore the nearby desert and, with a snap of his fingers, changed into bubblegum-pink cargo shorts, sunglasses, and (in Dark’s opinion) a hideously florid shirt. The Googles and the Doctor could only sigh, following Wilford into the distance, trailing pink bubbles in his wake. Bim ran along, pulling the Host gently by the sleeve, ready for “an adventure, Host!”  
The gloomy Saturday thus found the circle of Egos at the bottom of a hill, looking up at the house. Bim was eager, egged on by Warfstache’s exclamations of “What could go wrong?”  
“This isn’t a television show, guys!” Bim was practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s not haunted, it’s still light out, let’s go explore!”  
“I believe that Bim is correct,” Google_B interjected, raising an eyebrow. “Categorically speaking, there is nothing noteworthy about the structure besides its state of disrepair. It could prove an interesting distraction for the timebeing.”  
The other Googles looked at each other and shrugged in affirmation. Wilford looked between them in delight.  
Dr. Iplier sighed, pinching his nose. “This is exactly why you four–” he gestured to the Googles, “–are not allowed to wander without supervision. And you–” the Doctor rounded on Bim, now eyeing Wilford and the hill, “–you should know that this is exactly how horror movies start.”  
Bim, in mock seriousness, turned to the Host. “Whaddya think, Host?”  
“The Host, in accordance with Google’s analysis, cannot state that there is anything bad about the house. However,” the Host paused, and even Wilford went still, “the Host is of the opinion that there is something wrong with the house, however subjective the statement may seem.”  
Silence followed the little declaration, the Doctor looking smug, Bim pouting, until Google_G began to speak, brow furrowed.  
“I disagree with Host. Even if I could ‘feel’–” the droid’s voice dripped skepticism, “–something wrong about this house, this is no concrete reason to stop us from exploring it. In fact, it may be more prudent to explore it, seeing as Mr.’s Trimmer and Warfstache have already begun doing so.”  
Five of the remaining six egos whipped around to the smell of cotton candy in the air, pink bubbles drifting towards the top of the hill, and the figures of Bim and Wilford waving from the crest of the hill before disappearing over it. The Host, chuckling softly, resigned himself to the exploration as he, the Doctor, and the four Googles began to climb.  
The hill was not tall, but it was steep, and Dr. Iplier stumbled, losing his footing, halfway up. He was stopped by a vice-like grip on his arm and turned to see Oliver staring at him. “It would do you good to be more careful, Doctor,” he said softly, and the Doctor smiled sheepishly, shifting his feet.  
He looked ahead to where both Google_R and _G were helping the Host over the top of the hill, and down to where Google_B was watching carefully to make sure that they didn’t fall. “Thank you, Oliver,” he said, beginning to climb. Oliver stared blankly before releasing his arm and continuing up.  
The six of them stood facing the house, and the Doctor felt a shiver go down his spine. Whatever the Googles might say, there was something definitively wrong with this house, and it wasn’t the horror movies that gave him this feeling of trepidation. The Host, too, hesitated, and the Doctor looked to him quickly before he spoke.  
“It would seem that Bim and Wilford are already inside,” he narrated, softly. “The two of them are filled with innocent curiosity, and even Wilford forgets, for a moment, all ill-intent.”  
Google_B smiles (the Doctor isn’t sure it’s a good thing) and starts for the house. Oliver and Google_R follow, leaving the other three to catch up. Google_G turns to the Host. “It would appear that you have symptoms of anxiety, including fatigue, sweating, nausea, and trembling. May I suggest that it would be best for you a-and I,” he stuttered, “to remain outside while the others locate Mr.’s Trimmer and Warfstache?”  
The Host jumped a little and wiped his hand over his forehead, carefully adjusting his bandages. The Doctor, alarmed, watched his shaking fingers carefully. “T-That won’t be necessary, Google. The Host would like to explore the house with the others.” A shaky smile, a beat, and then– “The Host thanks Google for his concern.”  
If androids could blush, Google_G would have. The Doctor smiled at him, amused. The Googles had hardly interacted with other humans, not to speak of someone speaking kindly to them. He’d forgive them for being awkward, and it was downright adorable to see them become used to being thanked. With a hand on the Host’s arm and a beckoning wave to Google_G, the three of them started for the front door, where it seemed that the other three Googles were having an argument.  
As they approached, Host could hear their voices, slightly raised.  
“–and what concern is it to us if the door is broken?”  
“Some other, more malevolent party could enter! We do not know where Darkiplier is, after all.”  
“If the door is locked, how did Mr.’s Trimmer and Warfstache enter?”  
“Darkiplier should metaphorically suck my–”  
“Hey, guys,” Dr Iplier hurried to interject, “the front door isn’t the only way to get in.” He gestured to a large window to their left, glass long gone, with a smudge of pink on the sill.  
Google_G, once directed to the window, scanned the windowsill. “It would appear that Mr. Warfstache has already been here, and with him, Mr. Trimmer.”  
The Doctor nodded in agreement before looking towards the Host. “It’s pitch black in there, but we should be okay with your flashlights, Googles. Are you ready, Host?”  
“The Host feels more than ever the oppressive nature of the house, and would like to remind the other Egos that this may not be a good idea, that the party can still return home,” he said, mumbling in fear.  
Oliver shot the Host a scathing look, and the Host, sensing it, frowned. “The Host may be correct, but seeing as Mr.’s Trimmer and Warfstache are already inside, we would believe that we are obligated to retrieve them before turning away.”  
The Doctor sighed. “It’s too late now, and we’ll be safe. Take my hand, Host.”  
The Host put his hand on the Doctor’s arm and allowed himself to be guided over the windowsill and into the house, followed quickly by the Googles.  
Once inside, Google_B quietly powered up his flashlight. His chest and eyes began to glow, casting a soft light over the room. “Our objective,” he said (and the Host could’ve sworn that his voice shook) “is to find Bim and Wilford as quickly as possible, and remove them from this house, as it would appear that there is danger present here.”  
The Doctor looked at him, eyes wide. “What on earth do you mean?”  
“It would appear that the pervading atmosphere that the Host could sense emotionally is physically present once inside the house. There appears to be… a creature here.” Google_G spoke from behind them, suddenly solemn.  
There was a hard clank of a metal elbow on metal ribs, and Oliver murmured, “my apologies to the Host.”  
“Regardless,” Google_B said, voice again emotionless, “it is now of the utmost importance to find our counterparts, as they may not realize the danger they are in.”  
The Doctor shook his head. How, he wondered, did he end up here, leading the Host and four androids through a dubiously haunted house in search of a bubblegum-scented psychopath?  
“The Host senses Dr. Iplier’s chagrin,” the Host whispered, “and would like to remind him that Wilford and Bim could not have gone far.”  
With a slight shudder, Dr. Iplier drew himself upwards. “Okay,” he said, voice hushed but commanding. “Google– the blue one– determine the most likely route that Bim could have taken and lead the way. We are not going to split up, so the other three of you, keep an eye out for Wilford and other… dangers. Host, keep your ears out, and tell us if there’s anything else we need to know.”  
The Googles nodded in unison, creating a diamond around the huddled Doctor and Host, with Google_B in front and Oliver bringing up the rear. The six of them took their first few steps into the interior of the house.  
“The six of them took their first few steps into the interior of the house, slowly at first, but gaining confidence. There is cobwebbed furniture that appears to not have been touched since the late 1980′s, and a thick layer of dust over the countertops. The party moves past a small sitting room and into a long hallway…” The Host shudders as they step into the smaller space, wind beginning to whistle outside.  
“I believe that Bim and Wilford have split up inside the house,” Google_B intoned. “Bim is likely within these first few doors, as his profile indicates that he would prefer to explore a small space thoroughly as opposed to a large space fleetingly, in contrast to Wilford.”  
Google_G broke the silence following the announcement with a worried beep. “The forecast for this area indicates high winds consistent with storms within the next hour. In other words–”  
“–we have to find them soon, or we’re stuck here,” Dr. Iplier finishes for him.  
Google_G nods curtly. “Stuck, for at least the night. My sensors indicate that whatever… presence is in this house with us would not take kindly to the idea of visitors, and the longer our stay, the exponentially higher the probability that it finds us.” He pauses, ignoring the horror-stricken face of the Doctor. “Currently, the probability that we will be found in the next minute is: 10%.”  
“Gathering courage, the party presses on into the first door, knowing that time is now of the essence in finding Bim and Wilford.” The Host speaks quietly, but firmly, and the Doctor finds himself turning the handle of the first door in the hallway. It opens with a click, and he gestures to Google_B to light the way.  
Looking in, it’s obvious that Bim, or someone, has been here. There are footprints in the dust, leading around the room and back out again. Oliver, seeing the room empty, powers up his flashlight and tugs Google_G and _R to the next room over, unnoticed by the others. The Host steps into the room, curious, and begins to narrate what he can gather from the dust-covered objects within. The Doctor and Google_B follow, looking around curiously.  
“The room, as dusty as the one before it, appears to have been used as a child’s room,” the Host says, voice low. “The crib and color scheme would suggest a small girl, well-loved by her family. There are books and a rocking chair, but–” he furrows his brows, and his voice drops. “–it is unclear when this room fell out of disuse. The rest of the house seems to have been used up until the end of the 1980′s, as evident by the style of furniture and literature present. However, this room fell into sudden disrepair following the beginning of the 1980′s, in a way inconsistent with an aging child–”  
His narration cuts off as he realizes the conclusion that his observations have drawn. The Doctor, peering into a toy box, hears the Host’s voice catch in his throat and turns to see tears running down his face. Google_B reaches the Host before Dr. Iplier does, and a hand on his shoulder, gently says, “I believe it would be best for us to continue to the next room.”  
The Host nods quickly and allows himself to be guided back into the hallway, and the Doctor is left, briefly, in the darkness.  
From the doorway, Dr. Iplier can see the four Googles speaking, Host standing, illuminated by all of their lights. The Doctor begins to walk towards the door, feeling carefully over the floor so he doesn’t trip. As he got closer, he looked down, thinking something had brushed his foot.  
The sound of the Googles talking cut out, and the Doctor was left in complete blackness. Something had been touching his foot, and he felt a pervasive pressure making its way up his leg. Suddenly, the room was suffocating, and he took a shaky breath to call for the Host–  
“Doctor, are you all right?”  
Dr. Iplier sat up, ears ringing. He blinked quickly, and the Googles backed away, taking the direct light out of his eyes. The Host was kneeling next to him on the floor of the hallway. The first door was closed.  
“The Host is concerned because Dr. Iplier fell unconscious for about two minutes,” he said, voice trembling in fear. “The Host wonders if the Doctor hit his head?”  
“I’m fine, just help me up, please.” He got to his feet, head still spinning.  
“It would appear that the Doctor is experiencing advanced symptoms of terror, including a racing heart, tingling, chest pains, and breathing difficulties.” Oliver tilted his head at the Doctor, face folding into an expression of worry. “If this is a panic attack, I would recommend that he rest for a while longer before continuing.”  
“Shut up, Google,” Dr. Iplier forced a smile. “I don’t know what happened… just, don’t leave anyone in the dark, okay?”  
Oliver frowned, but nodded. “We have ascertained that these first three rooms have been visited by both Bim and Warfstache, and will be ready to continue to the fourth when the Doctor is ready.”  
Breathing deeply, Dr. Iplier turned to the Host. “Are you ready?”  
“The Host just wishes to find Bim and Wilford soon,” he whispered.  
“Wilford, doubtless, has a weapon with him, and he’ll be fine for a while,” the Doctor reassured him, looking to the Googles for confirmation. “We need to find Bim first.”  
“In that case, the Host would like to remind the party that we have a limited amount of time, and ask Google for an update on the probability of us being found.”  
“20%.”  
“Then let’s go.” Dr. Iplier turned the knob of the next door, and stepped inside. There was nothing under his feet, and he was falling.  
“I would like to remind the Doctor that he should not step into a room without a light,” Oliver scolded, stepping forward to grab the back of the Doctor’s coat and simultaneously illuminating a set of stairs leading downwards.  
The Host, with a gentle smile, put a hand on Google_G’s arm and started down the stairs. “The Host would like to point out that there is a set of footprints matching the description of Bim’s descending the stairs, but none coming up. The Host is confident that we will find Bim here.”  
The six of them creaked down the stairs, the Host nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling.  
“The six of them creaked down the stairs, the– oh, thank you, Google.” The Host could tell that Google_G was blushing now, and hid a smile. “As they reach the bottom of the stairs, the light from the Googles shows that they are in a small basement room. There is a single window overhead, the light of which falls on a small bench, covered in photography and film-making equipment. Next to the bench–”  
“Hosty!” Bim rises from where he was kneeling next to the bench, looking over the cameras in wonder, to run full speed towards the Host, arms outstretched in a hug.  
“The Host would like to remind Bim that he prefers not to be hugged,” the Host says, quickly, stopping Bim in his tracks, pouting a little. “However,” he continues, smiling, “the Host would appreciate a warm handshake.”  
Bim smiled, enthusiastically gripping the Host’s hand. “You finally made it up here!” He beamed at the others. “Have you seen all this cool equipment? I think this used to be someone’s darkroom!”  
“This equipment seems to be circa 1950,” Google_B says, from the bench. The Doctor can sense some kind of excitement in his voice as he continues, “It appears to be in excellent condition, save for the dust.”  
“It’s so cool,” Bim says, eyes nearly sparkling. “Do you think anyone would mind if I… y’know, borrowed some? There’s a camera and film and everything!”  
The Doctor opened his mouth, not sure how to respond to the hopeful, happy Bim in front of him, but Oliver beat him to it.  
“Bim, we believe that there is a dangerous force present in this house, some kind of monster. It will not take kindly to you taking things which are not yours.”  
Bim’s face fell, but quickly gave way to terror. Brushing Oliver aside with a glare, the Doctor interjected.  
“Maybe we can come back, Bim, but it’s about to storm and we can’t be stuck here all night. Do you know where Wilford went?”  
“Um… um… I-I think he wanted to go to the attic, because he says that’s where all the ‘cool stuff’ is.” Bim was terrified, and the Doctor felt bad for scaring him. When they got home, he was going to give the Googles (but especially Oliver) a lesson in human interaction.  
Now a group of seven, they turned to go back the way they had come.  
“Now a group of seven, they turned to go back the way they had come. However, as they neared the top of the stairs, a blackness began to overcome them. It was all-encompassing, suffocating–”  
The Doctor turned around to see the Host, who’d somehow trailed behind the group, disappear into inky blackness. It took him a moment before he realized that the blackness was moving, chasing, like a cloud of smoke. It took him another moment before he screamed.  
Bim jumped a foot in the air, lost his footing, and fell into Google_R, who was right behind him on the stairs. Google_R grabbed him and steadied them against the wall, looking downwards in fright. Google_B turned immediately, casting a light as bright as he could make it into the basement below. Oliver turned with him, turning up his light, and held the Doctor’s arm to steady him. Together, they stared at the bottom of the stairs, paralyzed by fear.  
Dr. Iplier was the first to move towards the crumpled form of the Host at the bottom of the stairs, pulling Oliver with him. Whatever darkness that was there was now gone, and forgotten; all fear gone, the Doctor was jumping down the stairs with Oliver’s light bouncing behind him.  
Google_B, seeing Oliver go with the Doctor, turned to Bim and Google_G. “Get the door open, please. The Host may be severely injured and we need to find Wilford and get them both home, quickly.”  
Bim fumbled with the door, and, finding it locked, gestured to Google_R to help them ram it down.  
As the repeated boom sounded from the top of the stairs, metal and flesh on wood, Dr. Iplier knelt over the Host. Oliver stood over both of them, stiff, staring at the Host’s prone form.  
“Goo– Oliver, can you please turn away? Host hates for people to see his eyes.” The Doctor waited until Oliver had nodded and fixed his stare on the opposite wall to turn the Host over, face up. Blood trickled down the side of his face, but a second look assured Dr. Iplier that the wound wasn’t deep. He gently rearranged the Host’s bandages and dabbed at the wound with is own shirt. “There’s not much I can do without my first aid kit,” he muttered.  
Oliver spoke, without looking down, “the Host carries spare bandages with him. I believe you should find them in his inner right pocket.”  
Cursing the Googles’ omnipotence, the Doctor rummaged in the Host’s pocket to find the bandages and some small wipes. He cleaned and dressed the wound, then checked the Host over for other injuries.  
“He’s a little bruised, but he should wake up in a second,” he said to Oliver.  
“May I look now?” Oliver whispered the question, and Dr. Iplier was struck by the worry in his voice.  
“Yes, he’s covered up. He’ll be okay, Oliver,” the Doctor said quietly, searching the worry lines in the android’s normally emotionless face.  
At the top of the stairs, Google_B had joined in to smash the door down, and it burst open, sending the four of them to the floor of the hallway outside. As it crashed down, Google_G let out a surprised warning beep, and his chest light flickered and went out.  
“I b-believe that I am beginning to r-run out of p-power,” he said, frowning. “I can no longer t-turn myself on.”  
Bim, despite it all, began to giggle, still lit by Google_B and _R, staring in a mix of confusion and concern.  
Oliver, hearing the commotion upstairs, addressed the Doctor. “I believe I can carry the Host upstairs, as it would appear to no longer be safe here, and we should redouble our efforts towards finding Warfstache.”  
Dr. Iplier, face still twisted in worry, nodded. “Just be gentle, he may have a concussion.” He watched as Oliver picked the Host up with surprising gentleness, then walked up the stairs towards the light. With all seven of them back in the hallway, the Doctor was hopeful that they would find Wilford soon.  
When they had gotten to the top and explained the situation with Google_G (Bim still suppressing his laughter), the Host began to stir.  
Oliver quickly laid him down on the carpet, and the Doctor knelt by him.  
“The Host… the Host realizes what must have happened and hopes that no one is hurt,” he said, raising his head. “He also recognizes the Doctor’s concerns, and assures him that the Host is alright. He also thanks him and the Googles for their assistance.” He lifted a hand to feel the new set of bandages around his head, and smiled reassuringly at Dr. Iplier and Bim.  
“The Googles…” Google_B started, “the Googles are happy that the Host is safe.”  
Google_G piped up, “W-we are glad to s-see you aw-awake.”  
The Host frowned. “The Host wonders if the green Google is losing power, as he is stuttering?”  
The Doctor didn’t stop to wonder how the Host could tell what color Google was. “Yeah, he is,” he said, helping the Host to his feet and supporting him. “It just means we have even less time to get out of here. Can you walk?”  
“The Host thinks that he would slow the party down, and that green Google would as well. Might we be left by the window to rest?” The Host said this weakly, and the Doctor could feel his knees beginning to tremble.  
He looked towards Oliver, Google_R, and _B for confirmation.  
“I can stay with the Host if he wishes to rest, and with green Google if he would like to come,” Google_R said. “I believe I have the most power left.”  
Dr. Iplier nodded, draping the Host’s arm over Google_R’s shoulders. “Go sit outside the house, and if we’re not out by the time it begins to rain, go home.”  
Red and Green protest in unison, “We cannot leave any of the Egos in danger, it is in our programming to–”  
“This is an order,” the Doctor snaps, suddenly frustrated by the lack of time. The Googles, even Google_B and Oliver, look stunned into silence. Bim shrinks beside him. “You will both go wait with Host while Bim and I and the other Googles find Warfstache. If we don’t return in time to beat the storm, go home and tell Mark where we’ve gone. Okay, Google?”  
Both Googles drop their eyes and nod before beginning to walk away. The Host stops them, turns, and gives the Doctor and Bim each a gentle hug. “The Host hopes that you will all be safe and return soon.”  
He turns to Oliver with a hand outstretched, and Oliver, confused, takes it. “The Host also asks Oliver and the blue Google to protect the Doctor and Bim with your lives.” The Googles nod, forgetting he can’t see them, then respond together, “We will, Host.”  
With this, and a small smile, the Host leans heavily on Google_R and walks away.  
The Doctor swallows his fear and turns to Bim and the two androids. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he half-whispers, “but we need to do this quickly.” Speaking to Bim, he said, “he wanted to go to the attic, right? Do you know how to get there?”  
Bim gave him an understanding smile. “I don’t know how to get there, but I know which way he went. Follow me.” Bim reaches toward Google_B to link arms and begins to walk down the hallway. Dr. Iplier followed close behind, Oliver next to him.  
When Oliver speaks, it is with a depth of emotion that the Doctor hadn’t previously thought possible for a robot. “You have my apologies twice now. I had patronized Host and then failed to see that he had fallen behind. I will not let such an oversight happen again.”  
Dr. Iplier speaks gently, softly. “It’s… it’s okay, Oliver. You’re still learning, and you’re doing great. Thank you for helping me take care of him, and carrying him upstairs.”  
Oliver, surprised by the praise, falls silent. Wind blows through cracks in the walls again, harder, and the Doctor isn’t surprised to feel the entire house tremble beneath them.  
They’re climbing the stairs to the second floor when Google_B speaks. “The probability of something finding us is, at the moment, 90%.”  
The party freezes, Bim and the Doctor breathing hard, the Googles not breathing at all. They can hear wind above them, around them, but there’s something else in the house. Something that isn’t creaking floorboards and shifting dust. Something that seems to whisper indistinguishable words and draw rattling breaths is in the stairwell with them, and Dr. Iplier can swear he sees the shadows move.  
Google_B is staring at the foot of the stairs, eyes wide, scanning for any sign that the creature has seen them. He goes stiff– Bim can hear the second it happens, the tiny mechanical whirr and click of a conclusion being reached.  
“Oliver, turn your lights up to 100%. Bim, when he does, I need you and Dr. Iplier to run towards me. Follow me, because if you leave the light, it’ll catch you.”  
The three of them nod slowly, still silent. Google_B can pinpoint the moment that the monster sees them, because suddenly the shadows are moving, coiling, angry.  
“Run. NOW.”  
There’s a click as Oliver’s chest and eyes seem to explode with light, and Bim and Google_B begin to run. But there’s a sickening crunch, and a stair gives way. The Doctor is stuck knee-deep in rotten wood, and behind Oliver, where his light isn’t as intense, is suddenly moving with tendrils of smoke.  
“DOC!” Bim’s half screaming, half crying, as Google_B drags him away from the closing darkness. They run full speed towards the nearest door, thankfully, blessedly unlocked, and Google_B thrusts Bim through it. Bim runs in, covering his head, and Google_B turns up his brightness too– he stumbles, snared by tentacles that look like the void itself, and Bim grabs the android by his collar to pull him in and slam the door.  
They sit on the floor, Bim panting, Google_B in overdrive. The light is too bright for Bim to open his eyes, but for once, he doesn’t complain. They sit close together for a moment in a half-circle of light, backs to the wall.  
Oliver is about to scream, the light burning his circuits, but he can hear Dr. Iplier screaming behind him. Protect the Doctor and Bim with your lives, he remembers.  
Step by step, Oliver walks backwards up the staircase until his foot hits something heavy and breathing. It’s the Doctor, and he’s still. Tendrils of smoke vanish from his limbs as Oliver carefully maneuvers to lift him while still shining light on the moving darkness in front of him.  
Step by step, Oliver keeps going until they’re both on the second floor. The shadows are still squirming with life, but it’s at bay; the light shining from his chest is at 115%, and it’s beginning to burn his shirt and Dr. Iplier.  
Oliver looks around quickly, and sees Google_B’s light behind the nearest door. With a grunt of effort and the hopeless whirring of gears, Oliver turns and sprints ahead of the shadows to the door, bursts through, and drops Dr. Iplier unceremoniously inside. A shadow tugs at his heel, and Oliver, ignoring Bim’s scream, turns to face the darkness.  
When Dr. Iplier wakes up, he feels drained, as though he’s had a sleep full of nightmares. Bim and Google_B are hovering over him, relieved to see him open his eyes.  
“Y-you okay, Doc?” Bim is stuttering through tears, and the Doctor smiles.  
Google_B looks more concerned then his voice lets on, but he scolds Bim all the same. “I told you, the Doctor was only asleep because of the monster, and had no physical damage, save for some burns.”  
A quick check confirms Google_B’s assessment, and the Doctor sat up, taking in his surroundings. He wasn’t on the staircase anymore, but in a dusty bedroom, on one edge of the giant, four-post bed. On the other edge of the bed–  
“Wh-what’s wrong with Oliver?” he stands up immediately, a little dizzy, and rushes around the bed. Bim hurries to his elbow, explaining.  
“You got st-stuck in the staircase, he picked you up and got you out, I guess.” Bim looked down guiltily. “He got you inside, and the shadows caught up to him. He- He–”  
“He turned his light to approximately 325% capacity,” Google_B explained, stopping Bim. “I believe that he is out of power, but may also have suffered damage to his circuits due to the intensity of your– the rescue.”  
A wave of guilt overtook Dr. Iplier. “I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, touching the burn holes in Oliver’s shirt, mentally matching them to his own burns. “Will– will he be harmed if he stays here?”  
Google_B answered again. “I do not believe so. He is, after all, only an android, and I believe that the monster has no interest in a piece of inanimate metal.”  
Bim winced, but turned to the Doctor all the same. “We need to find Wilford,” he said. “If he’s on his own, without any light…” Bim trailed into silence, terrified to say more.  
Dr. Iplier turned to Google_B. “Google, are you sure he’ll be okay?” The desperation in his voice was almost painful, but he didn’t care. The android nodded in confirmation, and the Doctor sighed. “We need to keep going, then. Do you know where the stairs to the attic are?”  
Bim and Google_B shook their heads, and he shrugged. “We’ll explore, then.”  
The three of them peeked out of the door, and one by one, made for the hallway. Google_B took up the rear, lights turned up as high as they would safely go, and the Doctor looked around nervously for any sign of an attic entrance. They’d only walked a short way down the hall when Bim gasped and pulled on the Doctor’s sleeve.  
“There!”  
Google_B glanced over to see a smudge of pink on the floor, followed by a trail of footprints. Dr. Iplier and Bim made straight for the trail, and Google_B followed nervously.  
“I’m sorry, Doc,” Bim said, sniffling.  
Dr. Iplier put a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong, Bim?”  
“If Wilford and I hadn’t wanted to explore so much, we wouldn’t be here.”  
“You had no way of knowing it would be dangerous,” Dr. Iplier explained, still scanning the walls and floor for any other trace of Wilford.  
“But it was impetuous, and irresponsible, and–”  
“Shh–”  
“No, let me finish! I’m sorr–”  
“Bim, quiet!” Google_B came up behind them, freezing Bim mid-apology. Ahead, the darkness was seemingly unpenetrated by Google_B’s light. A squirming black mass was pinned against the wall, generating what seemed to be gray smoke around it.  
The Doctor took a cautious step forward– why wasn’t it moving, or attacking? Google_B put a hand out to stop him, but even he froze when they saw why the mass was pinned against the wall.  
A iridescent, pink dagger protruded from the middle of the black tendrils, dripping what seemed to be miasma. The monster, or part of the monster, was hurt, stabbed to the wall like a kid’s drawing. As Google_B drew closer, it writhed in the light.  
“Wilford was here, that’s for sure,” the Doctor muttered grimly, eyes roving over the black void in front of them.  
Bim grabbed his shoulder. “It’s shrinking!” Sure enough, the light was evaporating the monster into nothingness, and with a wisp of smoke and a whisper of a scream, it was gone. All that was left behind was Wilford’s dagger, stabbed into the drywall. Bim reached for it and pulled it out, examining the blade before handing it to Dr. Iplier. “It might come in handy.”  
From farther down the hallway came a creak, then a crash, then a clatter. Bim jumped, but Google_B said, quietly, “That would be consistent with the sound of an attic being opened.”  
“We have to stop him, fast,” Dr. Iplier said. He grabbed Google_B’s wrist and motioned to Bim. “C’mon.”  
They ran down the rest of the hallway, ignoring the now howling wind and shaking of the upper floor. At the end, there was a ladder descending from the ceiling, leading into the blackness of the attic. Pink smudges marked the ladder, but they seemed to be splattered with black, and Bim leaned over to look at them.  
“He got some of that… thing’s blood on him, maybe,” Bim said, brow furrowing. “Or… or it’s following him.”  
“Only one way to find out,” the Doctor said, putting a foot on the ladder.  
Google_B stopped him with a hard hand on his shoulder.  
“Do… D’you want to go first, Google?” Dr. Iplier binked in the bright light pouring from Google’s eyes.  
“No, Doctor. I must insist that I go alone.”  
He and Bim stared. “But… but we need to save Wilford!” Bim almost shouted. “He’s up there alone, in the dark!”  
“I believe that Wilford has not been covered in the monsters ‘blood,’ nor is he being followed by it,” Google_B stated flatly. “I have done an analysis of the creature, and while I cannot say what it is, I believe that it has, so to say, ‘possessed’ him.”  
The Doctor made to protest, but Google_B again stopped him. “If I am correct, and this I am 88% sure is correct, Wilford will try and likely succeed to harm us. The Host has insisted that you are safe. I–” here he paused, and when he spoke again, it was choked by emotion. “I am an android, and can neutralize Wilford at the expense of this body. I can be rebuilt, but you two cannot, and I must insist, therefore, that I enter the attic alone.”  
Bim was crying, holding tightly to Google_B’s arm, but Dr. Iplier was nothing short of furious.  
“You don’t understand, Google, I can’t let you do that. We’ll go together, and we’ll find Will, and–”  
“Did someone say my name?”  
The three of them whipped around, and Bim’s knees nearly gave way under him. Google_B’s light illuminated the hallway, reflecting off of an obnoxious pair of pink sunglasses, pink cargo shorts, and a florid ‘adventuring’ shirt.  
“Oh, hello.” Wilford began to walk towards them, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silence.  
“S-stop, Wilford.” The Doctor spoke a little too loudly, and his footsteps stopped. Suddenly the silence seemed larger. “Google…?”  
Google_B shined his light up into Wilford’s face, politely confused. “Wilford, take your glasses off. Please.”  
Wilford stood still a second longer, mouth hanging open in puzzlement, before he spoke.  
When he spoke, it was in a growl. “In my day, computers were limited to clunky machines that sat on a desk. Now,” he took off his glasses and glanced up at them, and Google_B’s metaphorical heart stopped when he saw the eyeball, iris and sclera, obscured by black smoke. “Now, computers are people that stop you from getting peace.”  
Wilford– or the thing that was inhabiting Wilford’s body– drew a pink knife and rushed at them.  
Bim screamed and dove through the first door he saw; out of harms way, hopefully, Dr. Iplier thought.  
Google_B pushed the Doctor behind him, shouting, “Go!” as he turned his brightness up.  
Dr. Iplier scrambled up the ladder into the attic, but heard a beep behind him, forcing him to turn. Google_B’s light flickered, the gauge reading 560% capacity– another flicker, and the sound of the droid powering down echoed in sudden darkness.  
The Doctor heard Wilford, or the monster, or whatever it was, shifting Google_B’s body, and then he spoke. “Well, well, this won’t do. Machines never are any fun.” With horror, Dr. Iplier heard the creak of the ladder.  
He got to his feet and ran, bumping into boxes and furniture in dust covers, feeling his way through the attic. There was a whistle of wind, and he turned towards it, searching for a window, a hole, anything to escape this.  
The Doctor ran towards the tiny shaft of light, finding only a hole in the ceiling. Maybe he could climb out of it, he just had to find something to stand on–  
“Aha! Hello, Doctor.”  
He turned to see the outline of what used to be Wilford, the signature knife glinting in the twilight from outside. “Wi- Will,” Dr. Iplier began, shaking, “I know this isn’t you, you don’t really want to hurt me, do you?”  
“Hurt you? My dear Doctor, I only want to tickle you.” A laugh, and Wilford, his friend, was running straight for him. Dr, Iplier reached, desperate, towards the ceiling, trying to press himself into the wall, anything to get away from what was certain death, forgetting the identical knife tucked into his belt–  
CLANG.  
Wilford dropped, his body draped over a box, and the outline of Bim Trimmer tossing aside a bat approached the shaking Doctor.  
“Doc? Doc, it’s me.” Bim folded him into a quick, but gentle hug. “C’mon, we need to get him out of here, and get Google and Oliver.”  
Together, they picked up Wilford’s limp form and carefully brought him to where Google_B lay at the bottom of the attic ladder. It was an ordeal for the two of them to drag both Wilford and the android (who Bim swears is heavier than the average human) to the top of the stairs, but they managed it.  
Dr. Iplier walked into the bedroom quietly, lifting Oliver in a fireman’s carry to take him downstairs. Bim grabbed an arm each of Google_B and Warfstache to drag them down the stairs and down the hall towards the entrance, wincing as their heads clunked with each step.  
When they finally reached the window, they found Google_R and a still Google_G, who’d finally lost power. The Host, sleeping, was quickly roused into hysterics at the presence of the three limp bodies. When the Doctor had calmed him down, the Host helped Google_R lay Wilford, Google_B, and Oliver down by Google_G, where they nestled as if sleeping.  
“You are lucky,” Google_R said, sounding almost amused. “We have just enough time to get them home before the storm.”  
Bim, sweating and crying, looked up at him helplessly. “How’re we going to carry them all? It’s a long way home.”  
Google_R blinked. “I can carry two of my brothers, and I believe you are both strong enough to each carry someone.”  
The Doctor sighed. “Look, Google, have you seen any rope or wood around here?”  
“Yes.”  
A few knots later, Host, Bim and the Doctor were sitting amongst the three sleeping droids and Warfstache on a makeshift sled as Google_R pulled them towards home.  
“Doc, what happened in there?” Bim asked. “I mean, why did all of that happen?”  
“My bet is Dark,” Dr. Iplier said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve never seen him do something like that, but it’s got to be him.”  
As the four of them carefully dragged the sleeping droids and knocked-out Wilford into the office, rain began to fall. It was really night now, and Bim was glad that they’d gotten home. Host slunk off into the depths of the office. Dr. Iplier, straightening up, was immediately assaulted by a barrage of questions.  
Mark, Ethan, and Tyler had all stayed behind at the office to see them home safely, and Mark was the first on his feet, yelling. “What did you guys DO?!”  
As Google_R began to explain, Bim enlisted Ethan and Tyler to drag the other Googles to their room to recharge, and the Doctor sighed.  
As Mark turned to him to demand his version of events, he cut him off. “I know you have questions, and first of all, I’m sorry. But where’s Dark?”  
Mark started to answer, but Dark answered for himself, behind the Doctor. “Why, I’ve been in the office.” Dr. Iplier whipped around to see Dark smiling at him, as unruffled as ever. “Why do you– OOF.”  
Mark stared in befuddlement as Dr. Iplier, one of his most well-meaning Egos, punched the Darkiplier in the jaw.  
“What did you do to Wilford, asshole?!” Dr. Iplier was on top of him now, shouting Dark down, nose-to-nose. Dark only smiled.  
“He told you the truth, Doc.” Mark, still confused, but piecing together the day’s adventure, pulled the Doctor off of Dark, who only smoothed his suit and smirked. “Dark’s been here the whole day, I asked him to come back and be in a video or two.”  
Dr. Iplier scowled at Dark’s stupid, vapid smile, then redirected his questioning to Mark. “We were exploring a house out by the desert, and there was– there was smoke and darkness everywhere.” If looks could kill, Dark would have had a dagger through his immaculate white shirt. “It has to be him! He nearly made Wilford kill us!”  
Mark frowned in concern, but shook his head. “It couldn’t have been him, Doc. Dark’s been here all day. Whatever you saw… it wasn’t him. The Googles would have known, wouldn’t they?”  
The Doctor lapsed into silence. The darkness had moved as though it was alive, not controlled. And it had talked about computers in it’s time…”  
What had been in that house?


End file.
